


It Is, Now

by quartetship



Series: SNK Prompt Fill Mini Fics [7]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, mentions of parental abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6972871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everything okay?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Is, Now

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a prompt fill for [Mishi](http://mishimaweesa.tumblr.com/), of 'Spring Cleaning'. I kind of took this in a touchy subject direction, but I hope you guys enjoy it, all the same!
> 
> Please check tags before reading!
> 
> \--

Stacks of boxes, posters and photos still hanging on the wall, and the dusty evidence of shelves and drawers, undisturbed for the last six months. These were the things that greeted him, and reminded him not to linger too long.

Marco hadn't been back to his childhood bedroom since his parents had kicked him out, half a year earlier. Despite his mother softening toward him, and his father demanding he come and retrieve his things, he had no desire to. Everything in that room reminded him of how much he didn't belong there. 

Running his fingers over the film of dust that covered his dresser, his sniffled, not sure if it was his allergies or something worse. He would need to collect his clothes before leaving again, and he hoped to be able to take his movies and books, as well. As for the rest of it - the furniture, the television, everything too big to fit in his cramped car - it would have to stay behind. It all belonged to his parents, anyway, though it was unlikely they would fight him over most of it. But with no way to move it, he settled for stripping the bed of his blankets and emptying the drawers of his clothes, shoving everything into bags as quickly as he was able to. 

He just needed to grab his things and be on his way. His mother had asked where he would go, and he didn't offer her an answer. Six months ago, when he had stormed out, tears streaming down his face and heart heavy from the rejection and betrayal of his parents, he hadn't had one to give her. Half a year later, he knew better than to give her one. 

He was eighteen years old, and graduation was the following week. She reminded him that she and his father would be there, but he gave her only a nod in response. His parents felt like little more than distant relatives, people that Marco used to know, in a life before the one he'd made for himself in the months since he'd cut ties with them. He parted ways with them politely as he hauled the last bags of his belongings out of their house, with no intent to return. 

Home was calling out to him. The place he'd landed the night his parents had kicked him out, the place he'd been staying ever since - the place where he felt welcome and safe. 

Ten minutes later, he pulled into the rear driveway and headed up the stairs to a small garage apartment behind a house with ‘The Kirschteins’ written in script letters above the doorframe. He didn't have to knock; he had a spare key, for the rare events that the door was locked. He headed inside, arms full of bags, and was met halfway through it, with a second pair of arms to help bear the weight of them as he unloaded. 

“This everything?” Jean asked, tossing the first bag into an empty corner. When Marco put the other bags down, he saw that Jean had prepared nearly an entire side of his expansive room for him while he was gone, and he swallowed the tightness that the sentiment created in his throat. 

He did have to do that, after all. It was Jean’s room, and even if he had been Marco’s best friend, he was never obligated to invite Marco into it the way he had, to share it so fully the way he had been doing for six months. But then again, a lot had changed, in that time. 

It was their room, now. Jean was more than Marco’s best friend; in the months they'd spent sleeping beside one another, talking about life and spilling secrets until the early hours, they'd fallen in love. It wasn't much of one, but they'd built a little life together, in the apartment space above Jean’s parents’ garage, and everything inside it was uniquely theirs, and theirs alone. 

Marco cherished it. He cherished Jean. And there, with the life he'd left behind now truly gone for good, and the little world he'd created with Jean in front of him, he couldn't bring himself to dwell on anything other than those truths. He nodded in response to Jean’s question, holding arms out in a wordless request for support. Jean gave it to him, gladly. 

“Everything okay?” He asked, hands smoothing up and down Marco’s back as they held one another. Marco nodded into his shoulder, taking a moment to just exist in Jean’s embrace. 

“It is now,” he replied honestly. They lingered there for a few minutes, before Marco remembered the half dozen more bags and boxes that his car contained. Together, they packed them up the stairs and heaped them into a pile, with the intent to u pack and get him fully settled in, later. 

For the afternoon, they were content to lay on Jean’s bed, hand in hand, windows open to let in the fresh spring air as they talked about a future as bright as the sun outside. 


End file.
